Cinderella Wasn't This Hard To Get
by odairrieres
Summary: After Hermione takes a devastating blow from Ron, her long-term boyfriend, Ginny forces her to go to the local club whose ways of letting people let loose comes in the form of a pill that changes their appearance. Under a disguise she'd rather not have, Hermione bumps into someone she wasn't expecting.
1. Chapter 1

"You know what," a hysteric Hermione Granger voiced between sobs, her hand feeble in the air as it pointed accusingly at the opposite wall of her flat. "It's his lose!"

"Exactly, Hermione. He's an idiot," Ginny reassured the bumbling fool curled up on the living room couch, a poor plush pillow strangled in her grasp. The witch wrangled with the cushion, her hands twisting at the edges and at its mid-section. Ginny took a wild guess and figured that her friend was envisioning her brother, the redheaded twat. She rolled her eyes, unable to comprehend how exactly the two of them managed to come out of the same womb.

"He is, Ronald Weasley is a complete idiot. He's a bloody git. The nerve he had to tell me, _me_, that I'd given him no choice! I don't remember forcing anyone to kiss that baboon. Did he learn nothing from our time at Hogwarts or was he always this thick? I never once looked at another man, for four years!" Hermione screeched, her cheeks, eyes, and nose flaring red under the pressure of her rage and the constant flow of tissues and tears.

Ginny eyebrows shot up, her look speaking loads. "Did we not encounter the same Ron Weasley? Because, if I remember correctly, he's always been thick. 'Mione, he's the only person I know that can manage being dense and completely hollow all at the same time. The only person who has more air running through his head is Nearly Headless Nick."

Sniffling, Hermione nodded in agreement. "You're right. You're absolutely right," she muttered, her fist punching down on the pillow for emphasis.

"And you need to get over him."

"Right."

"Right… now."

Hermione gapped at her friend, aghast. "Are you barking? I need more time to grieve than that!" But, Ginny wasn't listening. The redhead was already tugging at Hermione's safety net, the pillow. She writhed it out from under her clutching fingers and tossed aside. She assessed Hermione from the blood-shot eyes to the socked feet shoved into sandals and shook her head in dismay.

"Hermione, love, you've been grieving for almost two weeks now. Ron has been snogging that Lavender wench for how many days now? It's time you get back on your feet, preferably without those horrendous things on, and show him what he's missing out on. I'm sure if he came in here, ready to beg for forgiveness, he'd turn tail the second he saw the younger version of his mother sitting on the couch." With that, Ginny gave a sniff in Hermione's direction.

"Have you even bathed? Nevermind, don't answer that," she said in a huff as she briskly left the room and headed into Hermione's bedroom.

Distressed, Hermione shuffled onto the edge of the couch, still curled up in the fetal position. "What are you doing?" She sniffled.

"Looking for some clothes that don't cover you from head to toe. Honestly, Hermione, are you a nun?"

"I'm considering it," she grumbled in reply, tossing the mountain of tissues in the corner of the couch into the waste bin, which was conveniently placed next to her. No way was she getting off the comfortable, secure, and honorable couch. It was also the same couch that Ron wanted back, because it was technically his.

Screw him.

"Oh, bloody hell. Forget this, I'm going to do some magic on your clothes," came Ginny's determined remark from somewhere in Hermione's room.

Hermione snapped up, the feel of the wood floors beneath her feet strange as she stormed into her bedroom and tried to snatch away Ginny's wand before she could destroy her wardrobe.

"God damn it, Ginny. Could we not do this?" Hermione howled, grabbing up her clothes and making a beeline for the closet.

"I always find it funny when you swear like that," Ginny giggled as she slid in front of the closet, blocking Hermione off.

"You're driving me mad," the bedraggled witch hissed as her cocky friend scooped the clothes right out of her arms.

"I'm just trying to help. Don't you want Ron to regret leaving you?"

"I left him," Hermione was quick to correct. Ginny scrutinized Hermione from the bed where she was laying out a red long-sleeved shirt and Hermione's favorite pair of black heels.

"By the way you're acting, no one would believe you did," Ginny shot back, earning the grimace she'd been waiting for. Hermione breathed in, pinching her nose and shutting her eyes as she contemplated the horrible scenarios Ginny might, and most likely would, put her in.

On the breath out, Hermione gave a short, but acceptable answer. "Ruin the clothes and I swear I'll put you in St. Mungos for life."

The grin on Ginny's face blinded her.

"You're going to love it. We're going to go to this club I heard about called the Black Cauldron," Ginny confessed, bright and bubbly as she waved her wand around. The shirt began to extend, and she made slight adjustments for Hermione's waist.

"Meaning, you've gone to it, haven't you? And, you didn't finish," Hermione remarked, pointing to the shirt that was now just a slightly longer version of the old one.

Ginny's smug expression made Hermione's stomach curl in on itself. "Yes, and no."

"What do you mean by no? No as in you didn't finish?"

"No as in this is the exact length I was going for," Ginny chimed as she lifted her masterpiece up, shaking it to get a form. The haughty smile still plastered on her face, she handed the thing to Hermione who held it as if it were a bomb.

"You're kidding."

"Nope!" And with that, she was working on the heels. White rhinestones emerged on the heel, covering it completely.

"You bedazzled my heels," Hermione said in horror. "You've made them into disco balls. I'm not wearing this outfit." She began to shove the 'dress' at Ginny, who scowled.

"Hermione. You need to live a little."

"Sure, live a little but I need to be wearing a lot more. Besides, what about Harry? Is he okay with you going to a club?" Hermione figured the spotlight was much better off away from her.

Ginny was uncharacteristically quiet as she finished off the shoes and passed them over to Hermione.

"You two are fighting again."

"And?" was Ginny's evasive answer. She moved over to her bag and rustled through to find her own outfit. The damn bitch had this planned from the very beginning.

Now it was Hermione's turn to dissect her friend. "This has nothing to do with me. You want to go so that you can get back at Harry," she commented.

Ginny shot daggers at Hermione as she wrestled into a pair of tight jeans. "Let's not turn the tables here. Tonight is for you and you alone, Hermione. I'm just the escort."

Hermione snorted, but made no further argument as she began to change.

"But, really. Why do you get to wear jeans?"

The roar of music coming from inside was blistering, and Hermione couldn't even tell what the words were. It sounded like a bunch of shouting. Maybe it was just a bunch of shouting. Everyone around them didn't seem to mind that the song was incoherent. Witches and wizards stood in a line outside of the unremarkable building on Leicester Square. It looked like any of the other cafes that were squashed together, except for the many young and, mostly, hip people standing in wait.

Hermione, all nerves, perched herself on the tips of her toes in an attempt to see the front of the line. There was a man dressed in black there, a cliché by Hermione's standards, who was slowly letting people through the door, or rather, two doors. And, she stretched her neck further to see this clearly, he was giving each person something.

"Ginny, you have been here before, correct?" Hermione asked, uneasy.

"Mhmm, why?" Ginny sounded about ready to burst into giggles. Hermione adjusted herself, her feet already stinging from stretching her limit in heels, and glared at the conniving witch beside her.

"What kind of club is this, if you don't mind me asking?" She asked between clenched teeth.

"I mind." The wench was biting back a smile.

"Ginny, I swear, I don't care if there are muggles walking past. I will hex you to death." Her hands clawed at her clutch, the ever-appealing wand snug inside it and just itching to be used.

"Okay, okay," Ginny cracked with her hands up in defeat, a fit of laughter spewing out of her. "You'll like it, I promise. It's nothing bad."

"Are you into drugs now? Ginny, please tell me you're not," she was desperate now and unreasonably so.

Ginny gawked. "No! It's just a type of potion they give you, but it's a pill. It's a new charm the cosmetics industry has come up with, quite brilliantly, called the polypill. But, it's exclusive right now and it can only be found on the market here. It's like a test run, an advertisement of sorts to get people all excited," she rambled on.

The line was moving far too fast for Hermione's comfort. What happened to the snail's pace?

"Get to the point," she hissed as they walked closer and closer to the entrance. She was suddenly hoping they'd be turned away, but it seemed the bouncer was saying yes to everyone. Just her luck.

"You see, it's like polyjuice potion but it doesn't taste as vile and it doesn't give you a form of someone else," Ginny continued on. Hermione stared at her. Had she grown two heads recently?

"Don't look at me like that. It's great! You take it and it just shifts you're appearance a bit so that you can have fun without worrying about the consequences. Think of it! If you came to a club and bumped into someone from work while drunk, they wouldn't recognize you and vice versa! Win, win!"

"Ginny, you've gone completely bonkers." And the redhead's bold smile only confirmed her insanity. "And why haven't I heard about this? Didn't they have to run this by the ministry first?"

"You didn't hear about it because it came out recently while you were using all your saved, precious sick days to mope over that maggot I get to call my brother. It got cleared and you'll love it, promise," was Ginny's reply as they finally met the dealer. Hermione gave a pained smile as the small, white pill was placed in her palm. For something so tiny, it weighed heavily on her.

Ginny grabbed her hand and ushered her through the door that all the witches were going through. Almost immediately, she was popping the pill into her mouth and Hermione couldn't do anything but look on in horror as every other person in the… bathroom, it looked like, did the same thing. She observed as faces began to slither and bubble, the roots in everyone's heads began to spread a different color onto the hair, and eyes changed color as well.

"This is all a luck of the draw, isn't it," she croaked out, still holding the damn'd thing in her hand.

Ginny, whose red hair had turned a lighter shade and whose rolling eyes were an alluring gold pigment, sighed. "Yes, that's the fun of it. You see what you turn out to be and run with it. You get to be someone else for the time being, let loose. You, of all people, need this and I'm glad I finally had an excuse to bring you here. Now, swallow like a good girl."

Hermione eyed the white pill, poised between her pointer finger and thumb. It didn't seem like the bundle of joy Ginny was making it out to be. Daily, Hermione dealt with the consequences of spells gone wrong. And now, she was going to take an experimental one just to have fun?

And then Ginny's hand was shoving the polypill towards Hermione's now open mouth as she tried to protest. But, the pill slipped and landed on her tongue where it began to dissolve into a liquid.

"GINNY!" She yelled, horrified and abash as others turned to look at the mad woman, before turning to enter the club after adjusting themselves. "You're insane!"

"And you're too wound up. Ah, look, it's already fixing that," was the smug and way too calm response.

"What are you talking about? I don't feel a thing." Hermione huffed, turning to the mirror and freezing up as she looked at herself or, rather, whoever the hell she'd turned into.

"That's the best part, you don't sense the changes. Effortless. I want to kiss the person who made this thing," Ginny gushed, moving up next to Hermione as the witch touched her face and hair and, well, her breasts.

"They feel, plumper. Can this stay?"

"Hermione, those haven't changed. It's just the face."

"Oh." Ginny snickered.

"This doesn't mean I like this at all," Hermione corrected, pointing a prudish finger at the person who was completely to blame for all of this. "I'll just… accept it for now. How long does it last?"

"Um, sunrise."

"Why sunri-Oh." Hermione bit her lip. This wasn't how she liked to do things, at all, but maybe it was time for that to change. So, looking back into the mirror at the rosy lips, blue eyes and drastically blonde hair, Hermione fought back the urge to run back to her comfy couch.

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this," came a hiss from a tall, olive toned wizard who, despite the more than playful look of his bronze bedraggled hair, was completely sour. His stony eyes were aimed at a much more nonchalant man. His companion lounged in a posh chair with a leg poised on its cushioned arm. The two of them were on a balcony, overlooking the club below as the young wizarding community spilled in and spewed money into the establishment.

"Because," the man drawled as he picked up the drink awaiting him on the glass table in front of the chairs, one empty as the tenser of the pair paced about; every once and a while, the tanned individual would move to the balcony railing and glance below in distress and something akin to curiosity. "You needed a day off from that Pansy buggart that has been haunting you day in and day out."

"You're the fucking ass hole who set me up with her to begin with!" The frustrated male yelled, throwing his hands up into the air in exasperation as he turned to stare at his friend in disbelief.

"Honestly, Blaise. How was I to know she'd go mental?" The snide smirk on the blonde's face made Blaise's eyes twitch.

"I'm going to kill you, with my bare hands, I'm going to strangle you."

"Very muggle of you."

Blaise pointed a firm finger at his friend, face puffed up. "I'll get you for this. For all of this."

"Not if I get you laid," the blonde chimed.

"Please. You can't even find yourself a woman. Pansy shot you down real fast, didn't she?"

"Weren't you just saying that she was bonkers? Obviously, she didn't realize how much of a catch I was. And, besides, you can't trust a word she says. I remember vividly the fun us two had back at Hogwarts," was the smug reply.

"Yeah, and now look at the two of you. She's obsessive and you celibate," Blaise scoffed. "Draco, you have nothing to go on about."

"And who says I'm celibate?" Draco asked, a defined eyebrow rose high in scrutiny of this news.

"The entire department. No one at the lab believes you've had sex in years. You're always in your office."

"Not anymore, I finished what I was working on and now I'm reaping the benefits- _all_ of them," Draco argued, the smirk on his face never wavering as he glanced down at the crowd beneath them; each one of them under a guise he'd created, all of them eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Oh, please, mate. I highly doubt that making that pill is going to have the women chasing after you," Blaise muttered, though he didn't sound very confident. Even he had to admit that Draco's work had definitely paid off. There was no doubt that once his creation reached the market that the profits would be astronomical. And after all the money the Ministry had taken from the pureblood families after the war for damages, Malfoy was in need of that pay to support his old life style.

"I can finally relax, Blaise. I know I have all the time in the world and I get access to this club without question. The women down there? They are all looking for one night stands and I'm more than certain I could get one into bed with me."

Blaise simply laughed as he glanced back down at the horde of women and men alike, all of them looking for something that wouldn't come after them the next day. "I bet you can't. Especially since you didn't even take the pill. You still look like yourself!"

"Not for long. I'm just reveling in this a little longer, up here, before I go down. And I highly doubt my face is that offensive," Draco shot back. "You, on the other hand…"

"Oh, shove it. And it's not your face, just your reputation and overall attitude that puts everyone off."

"Even you?" Draco tried his hand at frowning. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Especially me. Now take the damn pill so I don't have to look at your obnoxious face any longer," the slytherin alumni shot dismissively as he continued to survey the grounds below.

There was a tap on his shoulder only minutes later and when he turned, Blaise was met with a very Malfoy-like leer but the face it was attached to was different. The sharp daggers that made up his bones had softened, along with his piercing gray eyes as they morphed into a light hazel. The trademark bleach blonde locks were gone, in its place were brown waves.

"You still look hideous. If you even manage to get someone to look at you with anything besides repulsion, I have three galleons with your name on it." By the smile widening on Draco Malfoy's face, Blaise took it that he had a deal.

"And if I manage to get more than that?"

"Don't push your luck."

"How about her?"

"Nope."

"Her?"

"You're not trying."

"They're all supposed to be good looking, so how on earth am I supposed to find someone who will be hard to get? And really, this wasn't the deal," Draco hissed to his friend, whose grin did not lessened as he took a swig from his shot glass.

"Attitude, mate. Some of these women would dry hump a stool if it was tall enough," Blaise retorted over the pulse of music as he ordered another shot from the bartender. Draco groaned, leaning back against the counter as he scanned the crowd for someone who, apparently, wasn't aroused by the furniture.

As his friend flirted with the woman pouring his drink, Draco's eyes locked in on his target.

"Her." He nudged Blaise and pointed in the general direction of the witch in question.

"Hm?" The damn idiot wasn't even looking, too busy was he with ogling the big tits behind the bar. "OW! You didn't have to fucking step on my foot, you ass," Blaise hissed, turning his attention back on the sneering Malfoy.

"Ginger, over by the emergency exit. She doesn't look extremely happy, and she's wearing jeans."

"Your observations are earth shattering," came the dry response. Malfoy shot Blaise a fowl glare.

"And also, no. Try the girl next to her," Blaise suggested with a cocky smile, nodding to the blonde in red.

"Her?" He had to be joking.

"Yes, her."

"She's not my type," Draco shot down, turning back to his drink.

"No way, you're doing it. She's hot. And since when do you like gingers? Never knew you fancied the Weasleys all these years," Blaise teased.

"I will kill you."

"Ah, how the tables have turned."

"Sod off."

"After you!" Now Blaise was laughing, knowing he had the upper hand. Draco scowled and trampled off towards the blonde, who was without a doubt attractive but he'd never been that keen on blondes despite being one. It was a pathetic excuse to knock off a woman, but he clung to it. There was just something about her that rubbed him the wrong way. AndBut, the closer he got to the pair of witches, the clearer it became as to why Blaise had chosen her out of the two.

"You can't just leave. You're staying here with me," the redhead remarked. She, apparently, was trying to block off the exit as the blonde tried to escape. The escapee was looking out of sorts, and shot any approaching male a look that would have made Voldemort squeamish. This was why he didn't want to deal with her.

Not only was she going to be hard to get, she was just going to be plain difficult to deal with.

"Excuse me," he spoke out seductively as he moved in on the agitated witches. "May I cut in?"

"No," the blonde snapped immediately with a quick and brutal look over before turning back to the ginger, catching him off guard. That fast? He looked back at Blaise who, even from this distance, could be seen laughing his good-for-nothing brains out.

"What she meant to say was she'd be delighted," the more pleasant of the two corrected through her toothy smile. The tension was suffocating him and Draco honestly wanted nothing to do with either of them, but he also wanted to be able to shove this in Blaise's face once he'd won the blonde over.

"Oh, no. It's quite alright. It's just that I saw you two making a dash for the exit and thought it was a shame," he smoothly replied, grinning at the redhead whose gold eyes were his favorite side affects of polypill.

"It is a shame, isn't it?" The redhead replied, nudging her companion who scoffed at the two of them.

"Well then, that makes two of you. I'll just let the pair of you go on while I take my leave," she remarked as she began to turn but not fast enough to avoid her friend's constant block.

"Give the block a chance," Draco heard the ginger say. Merlin, why couldn't Blaise just let him pick that one? There was a difference between trying to pick up someone who was a challenge, and someone committed to chastity.

The blonde's blue eyes turned on Draco and he could feel chunks of ice blasting him in the face but slowly, those eyes looked him over and the ice seemed to thaw. She was still unsure, but it looked like Malfoy was finally getting some leeway in the situation.

"Aren't you supposed to offer a drink, or something?" She asked bluntly, crossing her arms. His attention was momentarily drawn to her chest and then the rest of her body. Despite the hailstorm she was emitting from her eye sockets, her curves made him perspire. The small dress hugged her body's turns just right and left just enough to the imagination with the sweetheart neckline to the hem that lay mid-thigh. If only her attitude weren't that of a nun.

"Sorry, she's been off the market for a while. Forgotten how this works," the redhead chimed in to the blonde's dismay. She gapped at her friend, who was looking anywhere but at her.

"Aha, I see." That explained a lot.

Her face turning red, the blonde was quick to object. "I have not forgotten a damn thing."

"Except your manners."

"If you don't hush your mouth."

It was quite entertaining to see them go at it, actually. He preferred watching than actually interacting.

"What are you smiling at?" The blonde huffed, her target moving back to him. The amusement got the better of him and he began to laugh.

"I think you're cute," Draco admitted with a small shrug, rattling the ruffled bird even more. She faltered, cheeks turning pink as she looked from her friend and back to him.

"I'm, um, Mary," the blonde blurted out, her eyes suspiciously landing on a bloody mary that was making its way to a group of enthusiastic twenty-one year olds. His grin widened.

"I'm Bloody." Her scowl returned, but he didn't mind anymore. This was far better than watching Blaise perform ancient mating rituals at the bar.

"Sorry," he muttered when her face didn't morph back into something pleasant to look at. Her friend, during some point in the conversation, had slipped off somewhere. When she realized this, the deformity Draco could barely call an expression worsened.

His smile widened.

"I'm honestly tired of seeing your smugness. It reminds me of something rather distasteful," the blonde shot.

He raised his hands, amused. "I'm not being smug, in the slightest," for once, "I'm just humored by how put off you are by all of this. I'd think by those clothes, you'd enjoy these surroundings."

Horrible words. The snowstorm was kicking up again as she glared at him, lips pursed as if she'd eaten something extremely sour. Even more sour than herself.

"Are you trying to insinuate something about me?" She accused, those arms of hers crossed once more over the only rectifying quality she carried in her arsenal.

"That you would be lively and try to have fun, yes."

"Ahaha, very funny."

"I'd like to think so." Apparently, she didn't like his wit but for some reason she was just as determined to talk to him as he was to get in bed with her. Maybe there, she'd be less likely to argue so much. Someone had to have kept her off the market for 'a while' for a reason and it obviously wasn't for her winning personality.

"Care for a dance?" He asked, swallowing back the foreboding thought that there was no way he was going to win this forsaken bet.

With a sigh and a disgruntled nod, 'Mary' eased the muscles on her face to reveal quite a pleasant surprise: a barely there, strained but all together smile. She looked much better without a scowl in place, but he wasn't about to ruin his chances by telling her that.

It was like the two of them were at a school dance as they walked over to the floor of pulsating bodies, barely touching. Blaise was forcing the impossible to happen by pairing him up with this prude, but at the same time there was something that kept him there. It was fun to annoy her, and there was little else to do.

The bodies were piling on top of each other, the unrelenting music keeping everybody from pausing to take a breath as they mashed together and through all of this, Draco tried to lead Mary without touching her. When someone nearly shoved the blonde tragedy into him, he finally gave up and grabbed her waist.

And, miraculously, she wasn't complaining.

His hand snug in the curve of her hip, Draco ushered Mary into an opening that wouldn't leave them gasping for breath. And then, they just stood there.

Despite all his talk with Blaise, Draco hadn't seen the inside of a club in ages, but Mary seemed to be looking for him to start something.

"Just so you know, I'm not good at dancing," she decided to remark, just to make the moment perfect. With a grimace, Draco reached out for her hips, hovering over them as he waited for permission.

She gave a curt nod and his hands were there, trying to maneuver her body. "You just sway to the music, like so."

"Then you do it. I can move my own hips," was her tough reply. He chuckled, deciding it would be more entertaining to leave his hands where they were.

"Then, please do, but I rather like where my hands are." Draco steadily closed the distance between the two of them, mindful he didn't trigger her instinct to run. The nearer their bodies became, the more he didn't mind her blonde hair or the fact that she was unable to go five seconds without a harsh remark. The atmosphere seemed to grow more heated by the second, but that could have been from everyone being clustered together. Whatever was to blame for it, Draco was lured in closer to the flames until their bodies were just grazing each other; their knees and chests bristling against one another in ways that sent unexpected and arousing tingles through him.

She was starting to get the hang of the basics of dancing, her hips pressing against his palms as they rocked from side to side. Her tempo was different from the erratic pulse of the techno garbage that was mashing their brains into goo, and he found the slow rhythm somewhat enjoyable.

"You're a natural," he breathed, getting comfortable as he leaned forward to press his face against hers. He could feel her muscles move up in a smile.

"You won't sweet talk your way into my pants," was the humored counter.

"Good thing you don't have any on."

"Haha."

"Oh, please, that was a good one," Draco huffed. He knew he was winning when he felt her hands tentatively find their way onto his shoulders. He couldn't help but laugh some more.

"What?" She asked, offended. She pulled back, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

"How about we pick up the pace, mm?" And, with that and no room for argument, his hands pressed down on her hips and moved them in time with his own. Steadily, they picked up with the actual rhythm everyone else was dancing to.

She, obviously, hadn't liked his scrutiny of her dancing, because she was putting much more effort into it than before. It was like she was out to prove something to him, and possibly her friend who'd disappeared into the crowd.

He had no qualms about that at all.

She had something to prove. Ginny had left her to the sharks and now, since she'd been so motivated to stick her with this bloke, Hermione was going to see it through even if it killed her. And it was, slowly and painfully. Her body wasn't used to dancing, let alone in heels. It was used to walking around the Ministry halls, sometimes even running down them, but not constantly moving up and down, side to side, and all around like a swerving car. The last time she'd danced had been at Bill and Fleur's wedding and that? That had been very slow dancing, swaying of the hips and the occasional dip. This was completely out of her comfort zone.

But she wasn't going to be beat.

So there she was, pressing her body against a complete stranger who, for all she knew, was someone she worked with every day. It was quite a well defined body, with muscles just beneath the shirt, just detectable as her hands moved over them, and she was sure no one in her department ever smelled this good and he was getting extremely close, closer than she was sure was actually possible. It was getting extremely hot.

His hands, which she'd forgotten were around her waist, began to dip lower until they pressed against her rear, pulling her in even closer. On a reflex, she turned around. That, Hermione would find out, was a huge mistake.

His hands refused to leave. His firm grip was making its presence known against her pelvis and she felt a strange warmth rise in her core that wound her up. At first, she thought she was going back to being completely uptight, but then she realized it was a completely different kind of sensation, and she was enjoying it immensely.

"What's your real name?" His breath came hot against her ear and she had to fight again against the instinct to turn around and avoid the proximity she was… enjoying. Instead, she leaned back onto his shoulder, a thin smile on her face.

"Don't spoil the fun," she chimed. Her body absorbed the chuckles as they rolled off his body. Merlin, he was firm against her. Too firm, she realized when her attention turned south.

"Now it's fun?" He was purposefully breathing onto her face now, his hooded gaze watching her with an intensity that aroused her.

"Very." She was surprised she was able to respond. Oh merlin, where was Ginny? She wanted to go home, now.

"Too much fun?" He was smirking now, those sneaky hands of his using the conversation as a distraction as they slid down the sides of her legs. She wasn't even sure they were dancing anymore. She felt paralyzed.

"Not enough." Now, she was spouting nonsense. And, apparently, he approved. He was fighting back a full-fledged grin and leaned down. His lips were suddenly very attractive, close enough that if she simply nudged her chin upwards, she could find out how they tasted.

"Let's leave," he whispered, and despite the maniacal strength of the music it was all muted as he spoke and she found herself nodding without her own consent.

He was grabbing her hand, pulling her through the masses, she was laughing, and suddenly streetlights were glaring at her. Then, they were in an ally, and the pull of apparition whisked her away.

Blaise owed him way more than three galleons.

"Wow, this is a really nice place," Mary blurted out the second they apparated into his flat. "A bit, um, green, though," she grumbled as she took in the pillows on the couch, the rug, and overall décor. Blaise owed him a lot, lot more than three galleons.

"I didn't bring you here to give me tips on my design," Draco muttered, placing his hands firming on her thighs as he approached her from behind. His lips were on her neck, kneading it with his tongue and teeth as his fingertips played with the hem of her dress, brushing against her flesh.

"I-I'm aware of that," she stammered, unsure hands grasping his very confident ones off of her. It was taking all of his being not to throttle her onto the bed only a few paces away.

She turned around, her face unreadable as she looked him over. He had a horrible feeling she was calculating something. When the sly grin emerged, he knew he was in trouble and his member replied with a cringe of its own.

"But, you know, it seems like it really needs help," she rambled on, slowly backing away from him with that damn smile on her face. He bit back a groan.

"Is that so?" The evil witch was stringing him along.

"Mhmm, I mean it looks like a bachelor's pad… in a bad way," she continued on, walking around the place. And it seemed she was moving farther away from the bedroom- the one and only place he was interested in her finding.

"I wonder why." He crept along behind her, already planning out the quickest and most efficient way to get her dress off and in the damn bed.

When she stopped to peer at the Slytherin ring he'd left on the kitchen counter, Draco found his moment to swoop in. His arms wrapped around and pulled her to his chest.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She screeched, flailing as he made his way down the hall.

"What you're prolonging, you she-devil," he replied, hauling her into the room despite all her kicking. In the process of it all, her shoes had ever-so-conveniently fallen off. "And, by the way, you're not doing a good job at it."

"Oh, bug off," she howled, kicking against the wall as he closed the door. She was squirming in his hold, her butt firm against him. He could feel the tension building and, after so long of a break, he was afraid if she kept at it there would be nothing to do in a few seconds.

He dropped her and instantly she made a move for the door. He pounced, pinning her against it and pressing himself into the curve of her body. He could feel her heart beating rapidly as he moved his caging arms from either side of her to the neckline of her dress. With ease, he pulled them down enough to reveal the delectable, soft skin beneath. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against the hollow of her neck, rejoicing in the shiver it elicited.

Finally, she stopped resisting. She bent her neck to the side, offering more of the canvas for him to play on. His lips were everywhere, following the delicate line of her shoulder and slipping forward to taste her collarbone, nibbling and suckling at it like candy. And under the bitterness of her words, she was sweet.

His hands, still on her dress, became more daring as they tugged the wretched thing further down, revealing more and more of the body he'd been imagining. And all of it was real, none of it touched by his charm. This was nature at work, and it was definitely working on him. He could feel himself become hard against her and the soft moan she gave out told him all he needed to know about what to do next.

With a yank, the dress was off and his hands, freed now, roamed the body, unclipping the bra that kept the real jewels hidden before gripping her hips and twirling her around to face him.

Her eyes were aflame as she took him in, and she was no shy flower as she grabbed for his hair and pulled him in for their first kiss. It was an explosion of sensations, burning and tingling. It struck every nerve, tightened every muscle into painful bliss. Working on raw urges, he gripped at her bare legs, pulling them up as his pelvis thrust forward to keep her locked in place against the door. Without needing any guiding, she wrapped them around his waist, her hands diving into his locks and tugging as the kiss grew more urgent, hungry. She bit as his lower lip, tugged at it and, being the gentleman he was, he allowed her tongue entrance.

And there was fire inside of him, in her.

He pressed even harder into her, until their chests were melded into one, her heart beating against his rib cage and the warmth in her belly fueling his need for more.

Hands were everywhere. He didn't know where his were anymore, or hers. One moment, he could have sworn she was grabbing his neck and the next, both of those delicious hands were clenching his buttocks. His made sure to visit her bottom frequently, and with haste. Her spine felt like an instrument beneath his fingers as he toyed with each bump, making her moan into his mouth, clutching onto him even tighter as the waves of ecstasy consumed them.

At some point, she'd managed to take off his shirt and unzip his pants. Her underwear was off, and Draco was sure his hands were the thieves.

When she reached down and squeezed his groin, he felt something inside explode and he pulled out of the kiss for air, resting against her forehead.

"Fuck, who are you?" He breathed, his voice shaky as he tried to get his bearings.

"That's for me to know and you to never figure out, now shut up and show me I don't regret coming here with you," she replied, and that was enough for him. With a tug at his jeans and briefs, Draco hoisted his lover away from the door and threw her onto the bed where he forgot completely about the bet that led them there.

There was a pleasant soreness about her when Hermione woke up the next morning. She gave herself a small stretch, mindful of the sleeping person next to her, and tested out her joints. Her hips held the brunt of it, her muscles groaning as she wiggled her lower half back to life. When she glanced down, she could have sworn there were fingerprints.

A smile warmed up her already heated face, the light from outside only adding to the pleasantries of the morning.

Morning.

With a jerk, Hermione sat up with the covers pulled up around her. Her eyes scoured the room for her clothes and, with no intention of staying long enough for the slumbering male beside her to wake up, nimbly hopped out of the bed. Her dress/shirt was by the door, making her cheeks flush bright crimson as she darted to grab it up. Yanking it over her head, she realized how loose it was around her shoulders and found herself even more frazzled.

"Get yourself together, woman," she muttered to herself quietly as she looked for her shoes, already knowing that her underwear was just not going back on. When something that used to be one unit found itself in two places (by the door and by the window), it was a lost cause. She could have used her wand to mend it, but that would have meant going back to the living room, fetching her purse, and staying there to stitch it back up.

She was just apparating home anyways, so she could do it commando.

Her shoes in hand, Hermione attempted to open the door quietly. Naturally, it squeaked upon the first turn of the knob. She froze, waiting for the mass in the bed to wake up and demand to know who she was, as he'd done multiple times last night.

Apparently, he'd wanted to call out her name.

And there was the blush again.

There was a rustling, and a gentle sigh that had her in a panic. Then, Hermione made the worst mistake ever. She chanced a look back to see if he'd woken up, only to gaze upon the properly sleeping face of Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy.

Her mouth plummeted to the floor in complete terror. Through the sheer will to salvage what was left of her dignity, Hermione yanked the door open, rushed to the living room to grab her partially opened clutch, and apparated straight back onto the couch she should have never left in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- This is the last part to the story! Sorry it came out so strange and short. As always, tell me what you think!

There wasn't even a knock on the door before Ginny barged in, all cocky and ready to rub in her confident "I told you so"s. She strolled right on into the living room, where she barely took note of the curled up body on the couch that had once been her closest friend.

"Look at you, coming in so late. Your hair looks amazing by the way, it's got this whole 'I just had sex' look to it. It suits you," she said with a smile, humming as she went through the cupboards like she owned the place. Seeing as she lived next door, had the key to Hermione's flat, and frequently came over in the morning for pancakes, it seemed that she did.

"It was Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, yes. Even Malfoy wouldn't have held up against your charm last night. I swear, at first I thought you were going to completely bomb, but when you two started dancing. Oh, sweetie, you should do that more often," came the reply from the kitchen over the clang of dishes as Ginny started arranging for their Sunday breakfast.

"No, Ginny. It was Draco Malfoy," her voice was so grim and gray that it formed an ominous cloud over her head. The clatter of plates stopped and there was silence.

Ginny's red, bobbling head suddenly appeared on level with Hermione as she dropped down on her knees in front of the couch. If Hermione weren't still in a state of shock, she would have commended her friend at freaking her out even more.

"What?" Was her intelligent response.

"Malfoy. As in, the blimey idiot from school who called me names and then turned deatheater. The man I danced with, slept with, INTERCOURSE. FUCKING MALFOY," She screeched, her hands turning into claws as they reached out for Ginny, called for blood.

Ginny, always a quick-witted gal was fast to move back from the rage. "Hey, I did not set you up with him! He came onto you!" She was also fast to relay as she got up from the floor and moved behind the safety of the chair opposite Hermione. Despite still being seated on the couch, Hermione was livid and Ginny searched the surrounding area for a wand, or any sharp objects.

"If you hadn't dragged me to that fucking hell hole, none of this would have happened!"

"True, but-"

"No, Ginny. No fucking buts. It is your fault and it was all because you thought it was oh so much better to go screwing around than to simply cope with your feelings and let me deal with my issues the way I usually do!"

The second the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them.

"Harry wants to get married, but I don't," Ginny confessed.

"What?" For a moment, Hermione's worries were gone as she studied her friend.

"Harry and I, we've been fighting because I'm not ready to commit completely," the words came gushing out and Hermione was off the couch and by her friend.

"But, you two love each other. What are you talking about?"

"I just feel insecure because he's always gone."

"Why are you telling me this now? And why haven't you just talked it out with him? I'm sure he'd fix this right up." She pulled her friend into a fierce hug, already the thoughts of her sexual encounters gone.

"Because I'd rather screw around than face my issues," Ginny said with a weak laugh.

"Oh, shut up." And they were both laughing, Malfoy a somewhat distant memory.

"So what if she left. Wasn't that the whole point of your stupid pill?" Blaise was having a hard time sympathizing, after coughing up the ten galleons Draco demanded when he came over to his house that Sunday afternoon. He now laid sprawled on Draco's couch, not a care in the world as he tossed up and down a piece of paper he'd found crumpled on the floor.

"It's not stupid, and that's not what I'm getting at! I actually wanted to know who this witch was," Malfoy sighed as he plopped down on the recliner in front of his childhood friend.

"I thought she wasn't your taste," Blaise mocked.

"Oh, and you always take me seriously. Wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you," he hissed in return, and with a flick of his wand the paper Zambini was playing with went flying into the trash bin. That made his happiness falter, but it was brief. Too brief.

"Was she really that memorable?"

"Not her looks, no but that was because of the spell. I didn't make it to enhance and make people outrageously attractive. I just did it to manipulate the face enough that you're not recognizable. Really, I meant it to be used for Aurors."

"Oh, going down the 'kiss the Ministry's arse' road, are you?"

"I'm not even going to oblige that comment with a response."

"Ah, but you did."

"Shut it, Blaise. Like I was saying, it wasn't her looks. She was just, memorable. Her body, which I had no meddling in, was outrageous," he breathed, his mind ogling at the feel of her beneath his fingertips. He didn't have to mention how she was in bed, because it was for him to know and only him. He wanted to keep it that way, and to do so he had to find her.

"Ah, and there's the truth, spewing out like your guts." The cocky grin on Blaise's face made Malfoy, for once in a very long time, want to use one of the unforgivable curses.

"What? Don't tell me you actually liked her personality," he went on when he saw the state Draco's face was in. The blonde rolled his eyes, turning away to stare a hole into the wall.

"And if I did?"

"Honestly? She looked like such a prude," Blaise muttered, bewildered. The edges of Draco's lips twitched upwards.

The less his whore of a friend knew, the better for him. The last thing he needed was Blaise trying to find her for the wrong reasons. And find her, Blaise would.

"Well, it's a new taste I've acquired and you're going to help me figure out who she is."

"Miss Granger?"

A large avalanche of paper and quills fell, revealing Hermione in all her flustered glory as she scrambled to fix the things she'd been moving around her office. "Oh, sorry," she exclaimed, grabbing up the pile of files she'd dropped as one of her interns looked on with concern and partial amusement.

"Are you alright?" He asked, watching as Hermione picked up and dropped a few rolls of parchment. She nodded curtly, springing up and brushing off her working robes.

"Yes, yes. Um, are they ready?" She asked, shoving back a stray strand of hair that was poking out of its bun. As soon as she tamed one, multiple others popped out. The intern at her door smiled.

"Yes, ma'am, they're waiting for you three rooms down the left," he replied before slipping out of Hermione's office. She breathed in through her nose, slowly and deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves.

It wasn't working.

Distressed, Hermione made her way to the meeting room, her head held high and her body rigid in preparation for the battle she was charging into.

When she opened the door, Harry's smiling face greeted her, along with Neville's, and Ron's not so smiling face. Added on top of that was the bleach blonde head that sat opposite them.

"Took you long enough," Malfoy huffed, arms crossed as he sat back in the chair so casually any unknowing onlooker would have thought he ran the place. As if she wasn't ready to leap out and strangle him.

"I'm sorry, weren't you the one who requested this meeting about your product that you're trying to market to us?" Hermione spoke sharply as she moved to her seat at the head of the table.

Malfoy grimaced and sat up, adjusting the tie that Hermione could see very easily tightening just a little too much with a flick of her wand.

"Hermione, what exactly is he pitching to us?" Harry asked, Ron staying mute beside him. Hermione made sure not to look in that redhead's direction. She didn't want to go to Azkaban for one lifetime, let alone two.

Clearing her throat, Hermione dispersed the files on Polypill to her three companions. "Malfoy's independent potions business has created a pill that encompasses the workings of polyjuice potion. It supposedly will help on the field but it's still in the testing stages and I wasn't even around when it was passed through my department," she explained to the others.

"I'm sorry, I thought I was the one who requested this meeting about my product that I'm trying to market to you?" Malfoy interrupted, scowling as usual. Hermione pursed her lips, holding back an onslaught of colorful words.

"What she meant to say was that I created a pill that changes appearances for, in theory, a complete day as it lasts until sunrise. Over the last few months, I've been tampering with it to see if I could get the full effect of polyjuice potion without the need to wait for it to brew, and without the need of another's DNA. It's quick and painless, and it's convenient for quick changes on the field. As aurors, I thought it would be extremely useful," Malfoy expanded, and despite the differences all them shared, the others seemed convinced. Well, except for Hermione.

Neville looked over the file, his study in herbology the reason why Hermione brought him in on this conference. "It seems stable enough, and I think Ginny brought this to me two weeks ago too, to make sure since you weren't here, 'Mione," he concluded, looking up at her with well-meant optimism. He was met with a rather chilling look that puzzled him.

"Granger, absent from work? Must be the dawn of a new age," came the snarky remark Hermione had been waiting on. Her head turned stiffly towards Malfoy, a snarl fighting against the forced smile she still had pasted on her lips.

"I was feeling ill, and actually, I'm beginning to have the same symptoms of disgust," she replied cynically. There was a cough from the other side of Harry, who was holding down a grimace.

"What, Ronald? Have something to say?" She snapped.

"Nope, nothing," he squeaked, rummaging through the file as if he actually understood a word in there. Could he even read?

"Well! If that's everything," Harry interjected, about ready to run out of the room before Hermione's hexes blew them all to bits, "I'll take this back to the others and see what they think. Personally, I like it but until we know it can fully take the place of polyjuice potion, I can't say yes just yet."

And, with that, he was up. Ron was already out of the room and Harry and Neville were quickly rushing out.

"Sure know how to clear a room, Granger." Malfoy, for some bloody reason Hermione could not fathom, was still rendezvousing in her chair, in her meeting room, in her department. And since there wasn't another living soul in sight, it was getting extremely hard not to kill him.

"Get out, Malfoy," she hissed, refusing to leave until he did. It was a constant standoff between the two of them.

"Having trouble with Weasley? What a shame. You two deserved each other," he continued on without a care, eyeing her with delight.

"That is none of your concern, now get out," she spat out. The wand in her pocket was looking dreadfully alluring. Merlin, how could she have slept with this vile creature?

Ginny couldn't apologize more.

And there was the straw that snapped her back.

"I don't have time for your idiocy, Malfoy. I have bigger things to deal with than the ramblings of an ignorant, bigoted twat such as yourself. Move on, and get over yourself. Lord knows the rest of us have!" Hermione grabbed up her papers and gunned for the door.

As she was opening it, she heard Malfoy laugh. Her nerves were completely on edge as she turned around to glare him down. "What?" She seethed.

"Everyone but you, you mean," he remarked.

"What?"

"Everyone has gotten over me, but you," he repeated as he stood up from his seat and meandered over to where Hermione stood, rolling off toxic hatred. "You still get your knickers in a twist around me." He took far too much pleasure in that statement.

"Oh don't fancy yourself so much, Malfoy. I'm having a hard time right now, and you were just lucky enough to be around. Enjoy the attention you just got because it is quickly leaving."

She yanked open the door and stormed out, the flesh memory of those damn fingers racing down her curves making everything that more unbearable.

"Let's go through this, again," came the exhausted voice of Blaise from somewhere on the rug in Malfoy's flat. It had been an entire week since Draco had met Mary at the Black Cauldron and neither of them had found a single clue as to who the mystery woman was.

"You went up to her, and she was with her friend who said that she'd been dating for a while-"

"Or married, by the way she stood on the dance floor. She could have been married," Malfoy reasoned from the couch where he lay face down. Blaise shook his head, staring up at the ceiling in hopes that it would confess all its secrets, like who was under its roof last Saturday night.

"Or that she'd been married. She was ready to leave, and had no interest in getting involved… are you sure that wasn't just because it was you?"

"Blaise," Malfoy warned against the pillow.

"Okay, okay. So, she has the personality of a lemon and the body of a goddess and a friend who obviously wanted her to get shagged."

"Yes."

"We found ourselves a keeper," Blaise dryly commented.

"Fucking hell, Blaise. I have a wand and I will use it to permanently injure you!" Draco howled, making his threat known even further when he began to sit up and search for his wand.

Blaise shot up and held his hands up in surrender. "Don't go nuts! This is, technically, your fault. If you hadn't made that polypill, you would have known who she was. Then again, she would have known who you are too." Both of them grimaced.

"She probably wouldn't have gone in without it, though," Malfoy argued.

"Either way, you're screwed. There's nothing to go off of… unless. Did she leave anything here?"

Besides her underwear… "No."

"Did you check?"

"Not really, no, but there wasn't anything noticeable."

"Anything she say when she got here?"

Draco smiled. "She said it was too green," he remembered and then it came to him. "Ah! She was looking at our House ring. Do you think she knew what the green stood for?"

"Now you're stretching it."

"It's all I have to go off of!" He exclaimed, exasperated. Blaise sighed, rubbing the stubs that were starting to form on his cheeks.

"Have you shaved recently?" Malfoy asked. Blaise cast him a side-glance.

"Does it matter?"

"Possibly. Since when do you not shave? You're always spot on," Draco commented. His friend sighed, crumbling another piece of parchment he had no right to play with and tossing it up in the air.

"I actually miss Pansy."

"You're mad."

"Says the bloke who's in love with a complete prude," Blaise scoffed.

"I never said I was in love, you idiot," Draco corrected, wary of this subject. Blaise grinned, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, mate." He made a toss for the trashcan and the paper ball bounced off the rim.

"Clean up after yourself, you git," Draco muttered as he dropped back down onto the couch. With a groan, Blaise got up from his spot on the rug and moved over to the waste bin. When he went to dump his toy in the garbage, though, he stopped and peered at one of the other papers inside.

"Hey, Draco, since when do you write in such beautiful cursive?"

"Blaise, I seriously do not want to hear another word come out of your fucking mouth right now," Draco grumbled against the cushion, shutting his eyes and chanting a mantra that demanded for his friend to vanish into thin air.

Instead, a piece of crumbled paper was shoved in his face. "What the hell?" He sputtered, sitting up right and grabbing at the obstruction.

"Read, Draco, and be amazed," came Blaises' amused comment.

Malfoy looked up at him warily. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just read, dimwit."

Begrudgingly, Draco looked down at the piece of notebook paper, torn at the edges as if it had been ripped to bits. On it was the fine, delicate manuscript of a woman.

_Ron,_

_I can-_

_The fa-_

_LAV-_

_pathetic-_

Despite being torn up, Draco had no doubt in his mind whose this was.

"First, you confess your love for Weasley gingers, and now you reveal you're a complete sucker for the loves of those Weasley gingers."

Blaise never saw Malfoy's fist coming.

Hermione refused to take another day off of work, despite the onslaught of owls Ron sent her asking for forgiveness that would never come and the weight of keeping track of Malfoy's ridiculous endeavors in the field of potions and enchantments. She'd had to work closely with his business, and sometimes even the bigot himself, in order to talk out the requirements he needed to meet in order to be approved once changes were done to Polypill. He was quick, she had to admit, in adjusting the concoction so that it enhanced the effects.

It was getting high praise in the Ministry. The only one who seemed bitter was her and even her attitude was starting to change.

The week's end couldn't come fast enough and when she walked into her flat on Saturday night expecting Ginny's onslaught of gushing and pleading to go somewhere, she met emptiness.

With a heavy sigh, she dropped her bag onto the floor and kicked off her shoes. Part of her wanted to sleep but another, emerging part of her wanted to punch the other half and do something with her life. Hermione hated coming back to the echo of a home, where Ron and she used to take up so much room. Mainly, it was Ron, and so now it just felt extremely large and hollow.

She felt the urge to move out, but then she remembered Ginny, living right next door.

"Hermione, your friend is in need of a pick-me-up. You can do this," she self-motivated. Her ability to cheer others up, at this point, was at an all-time low but Ginny was always there and for some mad reason stuck around for two weeks as Hermione mourned Ron like one would the dead. Hermione had to gather up her courage and put on her best smile.

When she knocked on Ginny's door, there wasn't an answering "coming!" to be heard. So, she knocked again, and again. As Hermione was considering apparating inside and demanding to know what was wrong, the locks began to unbolt.

"For Merlin's sake, Ginny, why did you-Oh, Harry," Hermione greeted, momentarily stunned. Harry smiled sheepishly, the door covering him conveniently from the waist down.

"Your glasses, they're um," she mumbled, automatically feeling awkward. Harry's hand jerked up to adjust his spectacles, which were somewhere between his mouth and left earlobe.

"Uh, thanks. Um, Ginny's-"

"I get it. Going," Hermione was fast to reply, waving a hand in the air as Harry stammered to say something but ended up just smiling briefly before shutting the door.

"Well then." It was time for plan B, which was basically plan A but without Ginny involved. Hermione as going to head back to the Black Cauldron and, this time, she was going in as herself.

If she wanted someone to fill in the void left in her flat, and someone who would be willing to go couch shopping with her once she got rid of Ron's, Hermione had to be herself.

But, as soon as she walked in after getting a look of unease from the bouncer, Hermione's resolve crumbled. She would have done much better in a disguise, but now that she was through the doors Hermione had no option but to go through with her poorly put together plan.

She steered through the crowd of witches and wizards, none of whom were looking for a long standing relationship, and found herself right where she'd been last time she was here: by the emergency exit.

"Horrible idea," she scolded herself. This was the only club she knew of, and it was also the worst kind for her. Everyone here wanted one-night stands or just to have fun for the night. Nothing serious, as she was hoping for. She frowned, eyeing the door once more and contemplating finally slipping through it and into the streets.

"Would be a shame to see you go," a jarring voice called from behind her. Hermione jumped, turning to face the person who spoke and sincerely praying it wasn't who she thought it was. But, alas, the blonde, gray-eyed Malfoy stood in front of her without a single facial feature altered- except for the peculiar smile on his face.

She was waiting for a low blow insult to come flying out of his pretty little mouth but instead, she was greeted with awaiting silence. And he seemed, humorously enough, to be growing uneasy.

Her look of shock melted and she gave him a questioning smile, in awe that Draco Malfoy was actually trying to flirt with her. She couldn't even begin to reason how he'd figured her out, but at this point she didn't care.

"That makes two of us," she replied and she knew she'd said the right words because the grin that had been slowly slipping from his face grew in force.

"Care for a dance?"

"I'm not good at dancing, you know," Hermione replied, glowing as she took Malfoy's extended hand.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do fine," Draco laughed, his other hand finding its home in the curve of her hip.

And Ron's couch found it's home, the next day, in the garbage beside Hermione and Draco's flat.


End file.
